Compassion Does Not Register

, , , , , | Right | October 9, 2017

(I work at a clothing store, and am working on a new shipment at the back counter when I start to get double vision and can barely stand. My manager comes from the back. I tell her, we call an ambulance, and she goes to the back to print my register sheet. A customer has been shopping right next to us the entire time. She walks to the register and looks at me where I am now sitting and trying not to pass out. She tells me she is ready. I get up, stumble to her, stand in front of the register, and stare at her for a good two minutes, still trying not to pass out.)

Manager: *coming from the back* “What are you doing?! Sit down!”

Me: “I think she’s ready.”

(After the customer has left.)

Manager: “Wasn’t she listening to us the whole time while we called an ambulance for you?”

Me: “Yup.”

Manager: “I hate people.”

Allergic To Reason

, , , , , | Right | October 6, 2017

(I work at an endodontist office. Each new patient has to complete paperwork, including a “go-to” card that lists pertinent information, such as current medications and known allergies. Patients who we have not seen for six or more months have to complete a new card so we are up-to-date. A patient comes in, completes the paperwork, and is taken into her appointment. A few minutes later, the hygienist comes flying out.)

Hygienist: “Can I see her card?”

Me: “Here you go.”

(The patient comes out as well, clearly upset.)

Hygienist: “Ma’am, you didn’t notify us that you were allergic to latex.”

Patient: “Why would I? I didn’t see how it was relevant!”

Me: “You should have listed it on the card when you filled it out. See here? We have a place for allergies.”

(I point to the section, which she has left blank.)

Patient: “I thought that was for medication allergies. How was I supposed to know that you were going to have latex gloves?!”

Hygienist: “Ma’am, this is a dentist’s office.”

Patient: “So?”

Your Account And Thermometer Are In The Red

, , , , , , , , | Working | October 6, 2017

I worked at a franchise location of a sandwich shop that was owned by a husband and wife who were notoriously cheap.

In early July, right after Independence Day, the air conditioning broke and they priced it out to be a $300-500 repair. They decided that because summer was “almost over” we should suck it up, and they would fix it in the autumn or winter when they could get a better rate.

The weather continued to get hotter and more humid. On several occasions, my coworkers had to leave shifts early because of heat sickness. It was regularly over 90 degrees, and with the bread ovens going, we were left working with sweat dripping down our faces, pools of sweat under our armpits, and our shirts sticking to our backs. We made a point of babysitting each other to watch for signs of dehydration and to remind each other to drink water.

Then, the freezer stopped working; we lost several hundreds of dollars of frozen stock because the freezer broke from running too hard. The icemaker in the soda fountain broke. Then, one of our service fridges. In order to serve customers, we had to walk back and forth from the prep room for sandwich meats. Then, the toaster oven overheated. One of my coworkers finally actually passed out on shift one afternoon, and my bosses were pissed that I was called in to cover her, because I ended up with overtime. Customers stopped coming into the building because of the oppressive heat.

By September, my bosses were out several thousand in repairs, stock replacement, and new equipment, all because they wanted to pinch a few pennies.

A Sign Of A Good Friend

, , , , , , | Learning | October 6, 2017

(I have injured my right wrist. It’s wrapped, and my arm is in a sling to avoid any further strain. Due to previous sports injuries, I have already taught myself to write with my left hand, but it’s much slower than with my right. Today, we not only have a written test in my ASL class, but a substitute administering it. I am struggling to complete the test in time.)

Classmate: *finishes and goes to turn in his test, whispers* “Mrs. [Substitute Teacher]?”

Substitute Teacher: “Yes?”

Classmate: “[My Name]—” *points at me* “—hurt her arm and can’t write well. Could we step out in the hall, so I can help her write?”

Substitute Teacher: “Absolutely not! You’re just going to cheat.”

Classmate: “Even if I wanted to, she doesn’t need my help.” *taps the gradebook on the teacher’s desk* “Check for yourself. She has the highest grade in the class.”

Substitute Teacher: *looks up to see the whole class nodding, while I blush a million shades of red* “Go sit down.”

(A few minutes pass, during which time she actually does open the gradebook. She calls us both up.)

Substitute Teacher: “Fine. You two can go out in the hall. But I WILL be checking on you, and I will leave a note for your teacher. She could fail you if she thinks this is cheating.”

Me: *knowing the teacher and her views, I’m not worried* “Thank you.”

Classmate: *takes my test paper and leads the way outside* “Question 12?”

Me: “Thanks, [Classmate]. I really appreciate this.”

Classmate: “No problem. When I was on crutches, you were always the first to help. And besides, now I don’t have to wait to find out what I got wrong. Now, number 12?”

(Thanks to him, I finished the test in plenty of time, and aced it. He had only missed one, about the history of Gallaudet University, but the teacher gave him extra credit for helping me, so it evened out.)

Arachnocculophobia

, , , , | Working | October 3, 2017

(Towards the end of a seven-hour shift standing under speakers blasting music, my hearing is a bit out of whack.)

Me: “Hey, [Manager], what was it you were saying about dead spider glasses?”

Manager: “Nothing, hopefully. I said I’d managed to find a place for that last red spiral glass.”

(Later, I answer a call from a customer whose enunciation isn’t the clearest.)

Me: *to my manager and a nearby coworker, after I’ve placed the customer on hold* “Do either of you know if we carry Candy Cane Nectarine Holders?”

Coworker: “Nectarine holders?”

Manager: “Try napkin rings.”

(I check on the candy cane napkin rings. We don’t have any either in our store, online, or in the local area, so I take the customer off hold to let her know.)

Me: “I figure, either way, we didn’t have what she was looking for, so I wasn’t lying per se.”

Manager: “Go home.”

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